The Race

“C’mon! One more lap, one more lap, that’s it, just one more lap, last corner then one more lap come on stay in the lead! I can’t lose this one, this is everything.” During these rushed thoughts I lean into the turn and then at a rapid change, time slows down, everything almost goes to a freeze. Speed, rubber, and dirt finally react, rear tire slips out putting everything into a ferocious twirl, dizziness and disorientation kicks in. The deep, dark brown soil that was once packed so tightly in the ground is now flying throughout the air. The white and black bunker slowly gets closer and closer then we make contact, it brutally digs into my rib cage. Cracking sounds come from my collar bone being snapped, vibration goes through my whole body. After becoming an accidental contortionist I was messily arranged on the table top of the windy, switch backing track. My body neither wants to get up nor is willing but my heart takes over and follows my dream. Bikes rapidly fling over me and in turn make me violently scared, the hum of their engines become louder and louder. Screams finally are heard from the crowd. I get up with the chant of people cheering me on. I kick the KTM 250cc bike to start it, I look into the clutch. I can see my reflection in the shiny chrome; I now know that I am ready. I pull in the clutch shift down and then twist the throttle as quick as possible. The deep throbbing sound of the 4 stroke engine rattles my head as I fly down the track playing catch up. I come up to number 23, he tries not to let me by but I beat him around the banked turn. Here come to the whoops, I shift into third gear and bring up my front tire. Then with ease I skim the top of the mounds of dirt while many racers are slowed down because they have lost control. All I have left to pass is Travis, Number 199, in the yellow jersey. He looks back which causes him to slide a little. I decide I will take a risk, I figured that that was what racing is all about, I guess I just found extra courage with the deafening hollers of the fans. Yet again, time slows down because of the choice I was about to make. I took the first jump instead of the second. This meant I had to clear 67 feet instead of the 48 that I normally take. I shift into fifth and pin the throttle. So many thoughts rush through my head adrenaline pumping, blood hot as a desert floor, my eyes collapse for they cannot take any more. I feel the rear tire lose contact with the ramp. I open my eyes and Travis is right under my rear tire, I hit the ground and a thud was released, I pass the checkered flag and the relief of winning comes into play, I had finally won the championship for motocross, this is my first time which I will glorify for the rest of my life..

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This author has a way with words. The style of writing is one that captures your mind and interest even if you know nothing about the sport or even if you can't relate to the topic...this author will put you there and draws you in. He has a real talent for writing.